


Let's Save Alistair

by Pheeney



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But they make up it's all good, F/M, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Inquisitor and Warden nearly get in a fist fight, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, This has given me cavities, because no warden would leave Alistair in the fade please, will end with fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10136417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pheeney/pseuds/Pheeney
Summary: Inquisitor Lavellan left Alistair in the Fade. Warden-Commander Tabris is not going to stand for that.





	1. A Confrontation

_To Her Worship, Inquisitor Lavellan:_

_I appreciate your warning regarding Corypheus. Fortunately, my own search has taken me out of the area where the supposed magister is operating, and while I have encountered challenges of my own, they have not involved any weakness related to my Grey Warden abilities._

_As I have little useful information to offer, please accept the accompanying gifts instead. If, in my quest, I find anything that may be of use to you in your fight against Corypheus, I will send it to you immediately._

_I have also included a note of a personal nature for Warden Alistair._

_Please take care of him. Like me, he was instrumental in ending the last Blight. I trust his compassion and his strength above any other's, and I would not go through such effort to overcome our Callings only to lose him to your Inquisition._

_Yours,_

_Warden-Commander Tabris of Ferelden_

 

The Inquisitor sat in her quarters, reading the letter she had received not four days ago. She sighed. _Please take care of him_ , she had written. Lavellan put down the note and stood up.

Of course, she wished it hadn’t ended that way, but someone had to stay behind so the rest could get away. Alistair knew that, and he wanted to stay behind. He _pleaded_ to let Hawke live.

She walked over to the balcony and looked out across Skyhold. It was a tough decision, but as Inquisitor it was her job to make tough decisions for the good of everyone, she told herself. Surely, she thought, the Hero of Ferelden would understand. She had already saved the world once, she knew what it was like. Surely she would understand?

And Hawke. How could the Inquisitor face Varric if she killed his closest friend? She knew she couldn’t do that; it would ruin him. Lavellan thought back to the letter. Alistair had people who loved him, too, and it had been easy to ignore that in the fade. “Mythal, protect me,” she said to herself. She turned, walking out of her quarters and towards Leliana’s rookery. At the very least she was going to make sure Warden-Commander Tabris knew.

  

…..

 

Lavellan sighed, sinking deeper into her throne. “Josephine, we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, I know, Inquisitor,” Josephine whispered back, with a pained look. “But you know how nobles are. Doing this will go a long way towards keeping the support of the Orlais nobility.”

“The corpse in a box was bad enough,” Lavellan whispered back. “But this?” Lavellan gestured towards the nug in front of her great throne. It sat still on the stone floor, with a handcuff clasped around it’s middle. It didn’t seem to mind.

A tall man in garish attire stepped forward. “Your Worship, I have been wronged by this _foul_ creature! I recently acquired a garment of fine Rivaini silk, which was worth a sizeable fortune of royals before it was ruin by thi–this… Thing!" 

Lavellan suppressed a snicker and the urge to pardon the nug immediately. “I understand, Duke Emeraude.” She squinted at the nug, and rubbed her chin slowly in contemplation.

“The nug,” she proclaimed, “Shall be recruited into the Inquisition and forced to serve as an agent. Have it sent to Leliana to begin work immediately.”

The noble man crossed his arms and smiled as a somewhat-confused guard picked up the nug and removed it from the hall.

 

“Any other business, Josephine?”

“No, Inquisitor, that is–”

CRASH!

All eyes in the room spun towards the entrance of the hall. The great doors had flung open, and sunlight was beaming into the room. There was a moment of panic as Lavellan stood up and squinted at the door. Were they being invaded? Was it a small army? No, it was one person, she realised, as the intruder strode toward her. They approached the crowd of people gathered and raised their hand. Instinctively, the crowd parted, and Lavellan had a good look at their intruder.

The intruder was a woman, a small and skinny elf, who despite herself walked with all the purpose and confidence in the world. Her head was held high, and she was adorned in what appeared to be Grey Warden armour, but different. Hers was more unique, more personalised. Probably better, Lavellan concluded.

The Grey Warden stopped at the steps in front of Lavellan’s throne. The room was silent as the intruding Warden stared, no, _glared_ at the Inquisitor. Lavellan felt weighed down by the intense anger radiating from the other elf, but held her ground, lest she show weakness in front of all her people.

Lavellan opened her mouth, but the Grey Warden spoke first. “I’m here for Alistair.”

Lavellan’s stomach sunk. She knew who this elf was. Lavellan took a breath and composed herself. “I’m sorry, Warden-Commander Tabris, but he’s gone.”

“No, I’m sorry, it sounds like you didn’t hear me,” Tabris asserted. “I’ve come for Alistair. 

Lavellan realised this wasn’t going to be easy. “He was killed in the fade by the Nightmare demon. It’s too late now.”

“Did you see this demon strike him down?” Tabris asked.

 “No, but–”

 “He’s not dead, I’m sure of it,” Tabris stated, her expression hard and unchanging.

 Lavellan grit her teeth and frowned. “Again, I’m sorry, but I know he couldn’t have survived. There is nothing we can do now.”

 “And I know Alistair, so I’ll need to see a body before I believe that.” Tabris was indignant.

 “Warden-Commander, he sacrificed himself so that we may live. As a Warden–”

“I am not _a_ Warden, Your Worship, I am _the_ Warden,” Tabris interrupted.

“As a Grey Warden,” Lavellan continued with clenched fists, “You should know about sacrifice.”

Tabris’ eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She paused. Her stance changed somehow, her shoulders rolling back and her arms tightening. To Lavellan’s confusion, she started laughing. It was only a small chuckle, but it felt unsettling. Lavellan gulped, but held herself fast.

 “Sacrifice?” Tabris laughed. “You want to talk to me about sacrifice? Of all people? The Inquisitor herself wants to tell me about sacrifice?” In an instant, her face fell into an expression of utter rage. “You do not know the _meaning_ of sacrifice, Your Worship. Look at everything you have.” Tabris threw up her hands and turned, gesturing at the great hall they stood in. Her words echoed throughout the room. “You have a fortress, an army, mountains of resources. You’ve got a throne, for Andraste’s sake. And from what I’ve heard, it’s all just fallen into your lap, hasn’t it?”

“How dare you–”

 “Do you know what I had when the Blight was threatening to destroy Ferelden, Your Worship? _Nothing_. I fled my alienage and joined the Wardens with only the shirt on my back. We lost _everyone_ at Ostagar. I had to amass an army while I was an outlaw in my own country. I had _nothing_ , Your Worship.” Tabris paused and swallowed. Her expression softened. “Except Alistair. We saved Ferelden and now I’m going to save him.”

Lavellan sighed. “It’s too late for him. It can’t be done.”

Tabris took in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Your Worship, I am Kallian Tabris, Commander of the Grey of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Champion of Redcliffe, Defeater of the Fifth Blight, and Hero of Ferelden, and you can bet Andraste’s flaming knickers that I am going to save my husband from the Fade if I have to tear apart the Veil with my bare hands.” She took a step forward. “Will you help me?”


	2. A Discussion

Lavellan considered her request. Tabris stood in front of her, waiting for a response, her expression remaining unchanged. Her anger had faded after she mentioned Alistair, but her wide eyes betrayed a steely resolve. Lavellan thought it unlikely that she would accept a refusal, and in truth she admired her determination. And her stubbornness. The Warden-Commander continued to stare back in silence.

“A-hem,” coughed Josephine quietly as she sidled up to the Inquisitor. “Perhaps this conversation should continue in private, Your Worship.”

Lavellan looked up and was all too suddenly aware of the small crowd in front of her. It had grown since the Warden had arrived, nobles, warriors and commoners alike gathered to watch their Inquisitor fight the Hero of Ferelden. For a moment, she worried who they would side with. The two elves had been silent for a considerable time now, and the people were starting to murmur. Out of the corner of her eye, Lavellan could see a hooded someone moving through the rear of the crowd: It was Leliana, carrying something small with her.

She looked back to the Warden, who had not moved save for a raised eyebrow, still awaiting a response. She cleared her throat. “Warden-Commander Tabris, would you join me in my war room?” she asked while gesturing to her right.

The corner of Tabris’ lips turned up ever so slightly, and she replied (with perhaps too much gusto), “Of course, Your Worship.”

Lavellan turned to a guard. She whispered, “Would you tell the Commander that he’s needed immediately in the war room?”

The guard nodded and left.

Lavellan turned back to the Warden and gestured to Josephine, who lead the three of them with a nervous smile. The Inquisitor hadn’t heard Leliana fall quietly in line behind her at first, but as soon as the door to the war room closed behind them Tabris spun on her heels.

“Leliana!” Tabris exclaimed with a smile.

“Kallian.” Leliana smiled in return. Lavellan watched her intently. Sure, she’d seen her Spymaster smile before, but right now her smile was just a bit wider, her eyes just a bit brighter. For a moment, she looked younger. Softer, even.

Tabris gestured at the nug in her hands. “You’re still such a softie, you know.” Leliana let out something akin to a giggle as she put her nug on the ground and nudged him away.

Lavellan was bewildered. Softie? _Still?_

The Warden and Spymaster embraced. “It’s good to see you, dear friend,” Leliana said. Her face fell. “I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

Tabris stood back and looked her friend in the eyes. “This is no time for tears, Leliana. We’re going to get him back.” Tabris spun back around to face the Inquisitor and Josephine again. “You are going to help me get him back, right?”

Lavellan sighed. “Look, he knew it was unlikely he would live if he stayed.”

“Those are better odds then I’m used to.” 

The Inquisitor wanted to bang her head into her shield. This elf refused to listen to reason, instead clinging to a ridiculous hope that a dead man could be saved. The conversation was going nowhere. It would be less painful to just help her, she thought.

She couldn’t ignore, though, that there was something more than that. The nagging voice of doubt sat in the back of her mind, wondering if, maybe, he wasn’t a dead man? Maybe they could save him? It was worth a try, wasn’t it?

Lavellan opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything the door opened and Cullen stepped into the room. “Inquisitor?”

Lavellan’s eyes shot to him. “Yes, Commander, come in.”

“Yes,” added Josephine, “Warden-Commander, this is Commander Cullen Rutherford of the Inquisition. Commander, meet Warden-Commander Kallian Tabris, the–”

“The Hero of Ferelden. Yes, we’ve met,” Cullen said, half a smile on his face, as he stepped into the room with a hand outstretched to the Warden.

“It’s been some time, Cullen,” Tabris said as he shook his hand with a hearty grip, adding, “It’s nice to see you’ve leveled out a bit.” Lavellan held in a snicker as Cullen’s cheeks grew pink.

“I, uh, I’m not sure what to say to that,” Cullen responded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So,” Tabris started. Lavellan turned to her, noticing that Tabris was examining her face. The Warden turned to the others. “I was thinking the fastest way to get there was by horse relay.”

“Wait, what have we agreed to?” asked Cullen.

“Nothing, yet,” Lavellan answered. “The Warden-Commander wants us to retrieve Alistair from the Fade.”

“I only need your help. I wouldn’t bother you if I could do it myself, but your gracious Inquisitor here is the only one in possession of a hand that opens Fade rifts.”

“That sounds risky,” Cullen said, frowning. “Is there a plan?”

Lavellan turned to Tabris. “Yes, Warden-Commander, do you have a plan?”

“The plan was to get your help. I assume we’ll open a rift at Adamant, crawl in, find Alistair, and crawl out, but I don’t know. You’re the one with the glow-y green hand, after all.”

“I can’t open rifts in the fade, but we could find one. It would need to be closed once we’re out, though.”

Tabris smiled. “So you’ll help?”

Lavellan grit her teeth. “Josephine, do I have any business in the next few weeks?”

“Nothing I can’t change, Your Worship,” she replied, checking her clipboard. “In fact, you _are_ due for a visit to Val Royeaux soon.”

Lavellan nodded and turned to Leliana and Cullen. “Any objections?”

“It sounds needlessly dangerous,” Cullen said with a frown.

“Yes,” Tabris interjected, “but you’ve done it before without casualties… Well, nearly. But, this time, there’ll be no Nightmare demon to deal with, _and_ you’ll know what to expect.”

Lavellan considered their words carefully. It was most definitely dangerous, but that was nothing new; it might not even be the riskiest excursion of the month.

“I think,” Leliana added, “it will be risky, but not impossible.”

Lavellan nodded, turned back to a smiling Tabris. “Okay, Warden-Commander Tabris, I agree to helping you find Alistair.”

Tabris beamed. “Excellent, I hoped you would. Leliana, I trust you’ll join us?”

“I had a feeling you would ask,” Leliana said, smiling.

“Come on,” Tabris said, nudging her, “it’ll be just like old times. You can’t tell me you enjoy being cooped up in that tower all the time.”

Leliana looked to the Inquisitor with a raised eyebrow. Lavellan shrugged. “If you’d like.”

Leliana nodded and said to Tabris, “Of course I’ll join you.”

“Glad to hear it! Now, I have one more person to find, but we should leave sooner rather than later. I suggest you get your gear in order straight away.” Tabris said, turning towards the door.

“You have quite a few people waiting to talk to you out there, I think,” Cullen said, “if the crowd I walked through was any indication.”

Tabris briefly stopped and considered the window. “Hmm. Maybe I should go the back way… No, no, I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you near the gate when you’re ready. Bring you best sword and shield, Your Worship.” She nodded to the leaders of the Inquisition and closed the door behind herself.

After a few seconds, Lavellan audibly sighed. “So _that_ was the Hero of Ferelden.”

Josephine laughed in disbelief. “She’s quite the character, isn’t she?”

“I’ll say,” Cullen agreed.

“The way people talk about her, I thought she’d be”–Lavellan shrugged–“I don’t know, kinder?”

“She is,” Leliana said, “but you’ve met her at a bad time. Actually, she was holding herself back remarkably well.”

“I’m surprised you agreed to help at all, after how she spoke to you,” Josephine said.

Lavellan thought about that and frowned. “Yes, actually, how did that happen?”

“The Warden can be very… coercive when she wants to be,” Leliana answered with a knowing smile.

Lavellan sighed again. She had a trip to Adamant Fortress to prepare for.


	3. The Night Before

The sun had not yet risen when Lavellan awoke in her tent. As she stirred she felt an unusually warmth in the air and sand in her bedroll, and she remembered the joys of travelling in the Western Approach. Her party of three were just one day away from Adamant Fortress, and another journey into the Fade. The air was still, and the chirping of distant crickets and a crackling fire could be heard from outside her tent. She rolled over, willing herself to go back to sleep, but a nagging feeling stopped her. Crackling fire? Hadn’t they put the fire out?

Lavellan sat up in her bedroll and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Through her tent, she could see an inviting, yellow glow. Someone had woken up during the night and re-started the fire, she realised. With a yawn, she wriggled out of her bedroll and crawled to the tent’s door flap. Peering out of the opening, Lavellan saw a lone figure sitting by the fire, poking it with a stick. It was the Warden, looking smaller than Lavellan had realised she was. She left her tent and hurried over to the campfire.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I was trying to be quiet.”

Lavellan smiled and sat down. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“The nightmares haven’t been kind recently.” Tabris picked up a flask beside her and offered it to Lavellan. She accepted it and removed the lid.

“I’ve heard Grey Warden’s nightmares are very”–she sniffed the drink–“ _Oh_ , _bad._ What _is_ this?”

“Believe me, they are, but these nightmares are worse.” She nodded towards the drink. “It’s liquor from far out west. It’s… Exotic. You can’t sleep either, I take it?”

“I have a lot on my mind.” Lavellan took a small swig, and instantly regretted it as she swallowed the foul liquid. While it burned a path down her throat, she thought it would not be dissimilar to what the floor of the Inquisition stables might taste like. Her face twisted and contorted, and she couldn’t hold back her coughs as she handed the flask back to Tabris, desperate to get whatever the _stuff_ was as far away from her as she could. “That’s… _strong_ ,” she rasped.

“Yeah,” Tabris agreed as she had a mouthful of the flask herself, “it’s an acquired taste. I know a dwarf that would love it, though.”

“What is in it?” Lavellan asked.

“No clue.” Tabris put the flask down and returned her gaze to the fire. The elves fell into a silence as Lavellan regained her composure, and waited for her face to cool down. Eventually, it did, and Lavellan could focused on the small fire in front of her, it’s flames licking into the air above it and embers floating up and down around it. She glanced at Tabris, who was still studying the flames.

“So, what were you going to do if I said no?” Lavellan asked Tabris.

“Huh?”

“If I didn’t agree to help you?”

“Well, I know it’s not very _diplomatic_ of me to say this,” Tabris said in a joking tone, “but I was going to take your arm.”

“’Take’ as in…”

“As in–” Tabris made a chopping motion on her own arm, accompanied with sound effects. Lavellan watch with concern as Tabris held that arm, now limp, and shook it a bit, quietly mimicking a scream.

“Oh.”

Tabris shrugged. “I didn’t think it would come to that, people speak very highly of your compassion.” She paused. “And if it’s any consolation, I was going to give it back afterwards.”

“That’s… good to know,” Lavellan replied, rubbing her left arm anxiously.

“Can you blame me? Give it time, and you’d do the same for your Commander.”

Lavellan spluttered. “Wha-what, Cullen? Don’t… don’t be ridiculous.”

Tabris rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I saw the way you looked at him. You’d need nugs for brains not to see _that_.”

“No, you’re mistaken, there is nothing happening between me and the Commander, I assure you.”

“Oh,” Tabris responded. “So, I didn’t see him staring at your behind when we left?”

“No, of course– Wait, was he really?”

Tabris chuckled quietly. “Yes, he was.”

Lavellan’s cheeks blushed and she smiled. “Well, maybe there’s _something_ between us, but there shouldn’t be. He’s one of my advisors, it would be completely inappropriate.”

“I always think that in our line of work, anything could happen at any time. Don’t put things off, just go for it. Who cares what others think?”

“Easy to say when you’re not dealing with nobles all day.”

Tabris waved her hand in dismissal. “Ah, bugger the nobles. They’re all good-for-nothings.”

“It’s tempting, sometimes,” Lavellan agreed.

“Besides, I know the appeal of bashful ex-Templars,” Tabris grinned. “Even if they are human, they can be very cute.”

“You’re telling me,” Lavellan grinned back.

The conversation lulled. The two elves sat in silence once again, watching the fire crackle and dance in front of them. Lavellan looked over to Tabris. Her grin had fallen, and now her eyes revealed an emptiness that Lavellan had not noticed in her before. Tabris continued to study the fire intently.

“Warden, are you prepared to find a body?”

“What?” Tabris retorted.

“Alistair… might not be alive in the Fade. Are you ready for that?” She repeated.

Tabris breathed slowly. “That’s not a possibility.”

“But it is, you must know that.”

“No, I don’t.” Tabris stared straight ahead. “I don’t know that because it’s not going to happen. He still lives. He has too.”

There’s that stubbornness again, Lavellan thought. She rubbed her face slowly. “Fine, don’t prepare yourself,” she said. “But don’t blame me if it happens.”

“Actually, Inquisitor, I _will_ blame you,” Tabris shot back, turning her head to Lavellan. “You left him the Fade. I asked you to take care of him, but you left him there.”

Lavellan clenched her fists. “How many times do I have to explain this? Someone had to stay behind, and he begged for it to be him. If he hadn’t fended off the Nightmare demon, we all would have died.”

“You’re wrong. You could have saved everybody,” Tabris said quietly. Her eyes narrowed.

“No I couldn’t–”

“There is always a way to save everybody!” Tabris very nearly shouted. “Are you telling me the great Inquisitor can’t kill _one_ demon?”

“No, not without more people!”

Tabris looked back towards the fire, ignoring the Inquisitor as she continued to speak while waving her hands about wildly. “You’re a leader, for Andraste’s sake! What kind of leader doesn’t make sure every one of their charges makes it home? What kind of leader so easily lets other’s die for them?” Tabris paused, shaking her head. “A real leader sacrifices themselves before anyone else can,” she whispered.

Lavellan exhaled, her fists unclenching. “Isn’t that what Alistair did?”

Tabris didn’t move, only stared down into her lap. The legendary Hero of Ferelden, Lavellan realised, hid a lot of pain from many people. A slight gust of wind blew through the camp. Nearby, crickets chirped and a desert mouse scurried through the sand.

“I wish I could save everyone,” Lavellan started. “I have so many people following me, defending me, dying because of decisions that I make. And the truth is, I’m not a real leader.” Lavellan looked over to an unmoved Tabris. “You were right, my title fell into my lap because I was in the right place at the right time. I did nothing to earn it. I wish I had, because then maybe I could justify why hundreds of people I don’t know are dying for me, but I can’t.”

Tears pricked her eyes but she continued, “And I have no clue what I’m doing. I’m just a Dalish warrior. I wasn’t even a leader of my clan, I was just good at fighting. Then, suddenly, I’m ordained as ‘Andraste’s Herald’, when we both _know_ that’s not true. And now…” She looked down at her left palm, faintly flickering on the dark. She sighed. “I wonder if someone else should have this.”

Tabris slowly lifted her head to look at Lavellan. Lavellan could just see in the slight glow of the fire Tabris’ red eyes. Tabris sniffed and shook her head again. “I know,” she said, her voice shaky. “I know you can’t save everyone. I just… I need Alistair to be alive.” She turned her body towards Lavellan and shuffled slightly towards her. “You wanna know a Warden secret? We don’t live very long. Something about the taint kills us after about 30 years.”

“Taint?” Levallan questioned.

Tabris waved her off. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, Alistair and I, we have 20 years at best. Now, I don’t know if you can tell this about me, but I don’t give up easily.” Lavellan snickered. “I have spent the last few years far out to the west searching for a cure. It’s been _years_ since I last saw my husband. What if I wasted my last years with him?”

Lavellan watched as a few stray tears streaks Tabris’ face. Tabris continued, “We both have sacrificed so much… And I have made some _selfish_ decisions to keep us alive. I cannot let that be for nothing.”

“Wow.” Lavellan, not sure what to do, lifted and arm and tentatively pat her companion on the back.

“Exactly,” Tabris said, sitting up straight again and quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. “And believe you me, I will be having words with him about this. Thinks he can get himself killed without me having something to say about, Andraste’s flaming ass, that man is lucky I love him this much or I would kill him myself,” Tabris said with a smile.

Lavellan laughed, then blinked slowly a few times. “Wow, what _was_ in that drink?”

“I don’t know,” Tabris answered, “but I’ve seen a flagon of it put grown men under the table.” Tabris shrugged. “And, for what it’s worth, I apoligise for belittling you in front of your Inquisition. You didn’t deserve that. I am sorry.”

Lavellan smiled. “Well, thank y–”

“Actually,” Tabris interrupted, “I _might_ be sorry. That depends on how tomorrow goes. You understand.”

Lavellan sighed, still smiling, and nodded. “Of course.”


	4. In The Fade

“ _This_ is it?” Tabris asked.

Lavellan shrugged. “Krem did say it was only rubble now.”

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Leliana said, in a voice that wasn’t particularly sad. “Such a great fortress, fallen to ruin.”

The three women stood before the vast mess formally known as Adamant Fortress, and the bright mid-afternoon sun did nothing to liven the poor stronghold’s carcass. Once truly formidable ramparts and structures of stone and wood, now all that remained were mountains of debris that could only provide fortification against the injured and elderly. Separating the various heaps were jagged, broken walls standing no taller than a human, clinging to their original purpose like a person may cling to a cliff one-handed. If Lavellan squinted, she could just make out how they once joined together to make rooms.

Tabris kicked a rock near her and scoffed, shaking her head. “Exactly what I’d expect from _Orlesian_ Wardens. They probably didn’t even spring for upgraded walls.”

“’Tis only natural, for such a building to crumble with time.”

All heads turned to the source of the new, perfectly enunciated voice. A dark-haired woman wearing thin robes and a skirt of belts sauntered out from behind a half-destroyed wall. “Even Skyhold will look like this one day,” she said, observing the wreckage around her.

Tabris smirked, and responded, “Morrigan, I was wondering when you would show up.”

Leliana rolled her eyes. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” She turned slightly to Lavellan and added under her breath, “So _dramatic_.”

Lavellan’s head tilted in confusion. “Morrigan? What are you doing here? And… _How_ did you get here? I didn’t know you’d left Skyhold before us.”

“Inquisitor,” Morrigan nodded in greeting. “I didn’t.”

“Ahh,” Tabris said to Lavellan, smiling and pointing at Morrigan, “Secret witch magic. I can tell you it involves _swooping_ , though.”

It was Morrigan’s turn to roll her eyes. “Speaking of, we are here for a reason, yes? I believe we have a fool to find?”

Lavellan looked to Tabris, wearing a frown she had recently reserved for the Warden’s antics. “I wasn’t aware that you’d invited anyone else on this expedition. I thought we’d decided that bringing less people was better?”

“Four people _is_ less people,” answered Tabris, willfully ignoring the Inquisitor’s irritation. “And I asked Morrigan to come because I trust her.”

Lavellan was a bit taken aback with that statement. All she knew about Morrigan was that she was a mage who had established herself into the Orlesian royal court of all places, which would be no small feat for an outsider let alone a Ferelden apostate. The woman was a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a cold, mocking exterior. Lavellan knew that Morrigan was a veteran of the Fifth Blight with the Warden, but _trust_?

Mythal knows why, thought Lavellan.

“Okay, fine. I’m sure a good mage will come in handy,” Lavellan sighed, defeated.

“Exactly my thoughts, Inquisitor!” Tabris agreed with a knowing smile that was really getting on Lavellan’s nerves. Tabris spun, gesturing towards the centre of the rubble heaps. “This way to where the rift was, yes?”

“Yes,” Lavellan answered with clenched fists. “Right ahead past the–”

“I’ll scout ahead!” Tabris called, already marching off. Morrigan chuckled quietly and followed behind the Warden with a lighter foot.

Lavellan scoffed and turned to Leliana. “She’s just so–”

Leliana was smiling with tight lips, holding in a snicker. In Lavellan’s eyes, her spymaster was basically cackling.

“You think this is funny?” Lavellan was trying to remain irritated but a smile was creeping onto her face.

“Oh, don’t worry Inquisitor, it just means she likes you.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Lavellan mumbled as the two started walking to catch up. “Has she always been like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… Commanding? Domineering?”

“You mean bossy? 

“…Yes." 

Leliana chuckled. “Yes, as long as I’ve known her. Taking charge, _being_ in charge, it comes very naturally to her. It’s one of her best qualities.” 

Lavellan grumbled. “Lucky her.”

“Don’t worry, Inquisitor,” Leliana repeated. “Like I said, she does admire you. And you are doing her a great service, she knows that.” 

“I’m not sure she sees it that way.”

“Trust me, she’ll be grateful when we find Alistair.”

“So you think he’s still alive?” Lavellan asked, her voice noticeably quieter despite Tabris being barely within sight.

Leliana’s eyes hardened and she swallowed. “I hope so. For her sake, and for yours.”

…..

“It’s just near here!” Lavellan called to Tabris, who was some 20 feet ahead of her. The four women had been climbing through the rubble in silence when they stumbled across a clearing where a courtyard had once been. Lavellan stopped, breathing in the air slowly. It was stale, and dusty, and Lavellan felt the sharp memory of falling out of the Fade for a second time to the disaster waiting for her in the real world. The courtyard was strangely intact, she thought, like it knew that it had unfinished business. Lavellan shivered and picked up her pace to reach the others, who were standing together in the centre of the clearing. 

“What’s that?” she asked as she approached them. Tabris had picked something up off the ground and was examining it, with the disdain of someone who had just picked up nug droppings. As Lavellan got closer, she could see that it was a piece of blue material, dirty and dusty and torn from battle. Lavellan could just make out the head of a griffin and part of a shield before Tabris scrunched it in her hands and abruptly cast it to the ground. 

Tabris looked to Lavellan. “This the place?” 

“Uh, yes,” Lavellan nodded, and said gesturing to the ground, “right here.”

“Great.” Tabris smiled hastily. “Want to throw up one of your rifts? We’ve kept Alistair waiting long enough.”

“Yes,” chimed in Morrigan, “let’s get this over with, shall we?”

…..

The Fade reminded Lavellan of being on a boat far out at sea. She could almost feel the ground sway as she fell onto it without grace, her body deciding that it wasn’t so sure the sky was up anymore. She caught herself just before she hit the ground, and held herself still until the ground had stopped rocking and her body had reasoned that, yes, skies usually indicate an upwards direction, so surely she was in an upright position and there was no need for falling over. Lavellan, as it happened, hated boats. 

She straightened herself up and surveyed the area. Morrigan and Leliana were both near her, the former dusting off her clothes and the latter pulling out her bow and eyeing a nearby boulder suspiciously. They had landed in a large, somewhat circular opening, with small rocks and puddles interspersed loosely around them. The Fade was different to how Lavellan remembered it. When she was here last, the sky was dark and the air was hazy. Everything had felt uneasy, like the floor was made of egg shells. The unease was definitely still there, she thought, but it didn’t have the edge it had last time. The atmosphere was calmer now, and the place was lighter. Lavellan was reminded more of an ordinary dream than a nightmare, and she was thankful for the change.

She turned around to find Tabris, several steps away with her back to the group, standing completely still. Lavellan waited for her to turn and start barking out orders, but she didn’t.

“Warden? You okay?” She called. Tabris made no move in response, save for throwing up a hand as a ‘shush’. Her ears twitched.

Lavellan looked to Leliana, mouthing a silent, “What?” in confusion. Leliana shrugged in reply. They both turned to Morrigan, who only rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. They looked back to Tabris.

Tabris spun slowly around on her heels to face the others. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted slightly towards the sky. Her breathing was slow and deep, and a smile was growing on her face. “He’s here,” she uttered, quietly. “He’s here!” She opened her eyes, positively beaming.

“How do you–”

“I can hear him,” Tabris said, closing her eyes again. Her face calmed, like a deaf person who was experiencing music for the first time. Lavellan’s own ears twitched, but she could hear no noise.

“But I can’t hear anything,” Lavellan said, puzzled.

“Shh!” Tabris yelled, waving her arms wildly. She paused, and to the bafflement of Lavellan, pivoted around and bolted. Lavellan stood, dumbfounded for a second, and was about to follow the Warden when she halted dead in her tracks nearly 15 strides away.

Lavellan turned to Leliana and Morrigan. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on?”

“It would seem that the Warden is finding Alistair,” Morrigan answered.

“But how is this helping?” Lavellan asked, gesturing to Tabris, who had just started running to a different corner of the clearing.

“She and Alistair told us that the Wardens had the ability to ‘sense’ the darkspawn,” Leliana explained. “That’s why they could almost never ambush us during the Blight. Maybe that has something to do with it?”

“Funny,” said Lavellan. “Blackwall never mentioned anything about that.”

“Well,” Morrigan added, “I hope she knows what she’s doing, lest this be a huge waste of our time.”

“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing, she usually does,” Leliana nodded.

“Or perhaps she has finally lost her mind. We may never know.” Morrigan shrugged with a sly smile on her face.

Lavellan swallowed, watching Tabris run around the perimeter of the clearing and finally approach them again. That would be unfortunate.

When Tabris reached them, panting, she pointed an arm out to her left. “That way. He’s definitely that way.”

“Care to explain how you know that?” Lavellan asked.

“Wardens, we can kind of… _Hear_ darkspawn. Because of our own taint,” Tabris explained. “And, if there aren’t too many darkspawn around, you can hear other Wardens as well. From what I can tell, he’s that way.”

“And… you’re sure it’s Alistair?”

Tabris rolled her eyes. “ _Yes_ , I’m sure it’s Alistair. He’s my _husband_ , I know what he sounds like.”

Lavellan sighed. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Lead the way.”

Tabris smiled and nodded, giving a quick, “Thank you!” and marching off, the other three women falling in behind her. They set off, Lavellan feeling somewhat uncomfortable in her role as follower but nevertheless following Tabris diligently, no matter how many confusing and out-of-the-blue turns she made down the winding paths of the Fade. The group had just found a good jogging rhythm when, not five minutes after starting, Tabris stopped.

“Wait,” she said, throwing up a hand again and narrowly avoiding Lavellan skidding into her. “I just remembered something.”

“What now?” huffed an exasperated Lavellan.

Tabris held up her hand, palm facing the sky, and stared at it, as if expecting some sought of magic object to appear in it from nowhere by the sheer power of her own will.

Which, to a wide-eyed and open-mouthed Lavellan’s bewilderment, is exactly what happened. Tabris giggled a menacing giggle as a glowing fire ball materialized inches above her hand.

“Oh _, yes,”_ said Tabris, wiggling her fingers to make the ball of fire dance above her hand. “It works!” She pulled her arm back quickly and punched an invisible target in front of her, sending the ball flying through the air and exploding in a firey burst of destruction on a rock in the distance. Tabris squealed with a child-like glee. “It works!” she repeated, louder this time. “I was worried it wouldn’t. I’ve always wished I was a mage, you know. But without the imprisonment, of course.”

“What… How did you do that?” Lavellan asked in disbelief. “Are you a mage?”

Tabris chuckled. “Picked up a few tricks my last time ‘round.”

“What, no golems, Warden?” Morrigan chided.

Tabris bit her lip, looking down at her small body. “Best not push it, I think. This isn’t a dream, after all.”

Lavellan looked to Leliana, who leaned towards her and whispered, “Some spirits from the Fade taught her to shape-shift and use magic, back when we were fighting the Blight. I’m sure she’s picked up some new tricks since then, though.”

“Huh,” said Lavellan, watching Tabris Winter’s Grasp-ing a nearby Fade plant and receiving advice from Morrigan. The Warden was full of surprises.

Surprises that came in handy when the party eventually ran into hostile demons, Lavellan learnt. There were far more on the day of the siege, and Lavellan assumed that was because of all the excitement on the day, but that had been some time ago and the demons must have calmed down again and dispersed. They encountered the odd rage demon, a few sorrow demons, and a handful of fearlings, but nothing overwhelming. All the while, Tabris grew more anxious, her step growing quicker, the desperation more and more evident in her voice with every command she gave. Her excitement had compounded to the point that Lavellan thought she would start bouncing off the walls, when she slowed to a stop once again in another clearing.

“He’s so close. I can feel it,” Tabris murmured, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

The four held still and silent, examining their surrounds, when Leliana pointed out to the distance and called, “There!”

All heads spun to follow her hand, and sure enough they could just see three figures, one lying on the floor and two surrounding it. Tabris, lost for words, took a few tentative steps and gasped. As quickly as she’d stopped, she started again, her legs surging forward with newfound energy as she broke into a sprint. The three women behind her shot each other quick glances before following behind the Warden, although none with the same power and speed. As Lavellan’s legs pumped, striving to keep up, she started to make out the figures. The two standing up looked like women, facing each other, highly animated and in the midst of a heated discussion. The one on the ground was significantly bigger; a man, one that looked just like–

“Alistair!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warden senses tingling*
> 
> Sorry for the wait! I had an essay due, so I couldn't write for like a week. 
> 
> (Well, I did, but this isn't the audience for an essay explaining the psychological principles behind the cognitive interview.)
> 
> Anyway! The next chapter is already half written, so it's not far away. Thanks for sticking with me guys! :)


	5. Alistair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait, I had so much trouble actually deciding what was going to happen this chapter, it took me so long to settle on a series of events that I liked BUT THEN once I had a plot I kept adding to it and adding to it until I had a chapter that was waayyy longer than any of the others. Long story short, for your valued patience I bequeath onto you two chapters for the price of one!  
> (Also, one small note, I know that technically all demons are actually spirits, but I hope you'll indulge my labels or else this chapter would have been a nightmare to write.)  
> Enjoy!

Alistair wasn’t exactly sure what happened to the Nightmare demon. He remembered staying behind, and fighting the monster alone, and he vaguely recalled that the fight had lasted quite some time, but he didn’t know what had happened when it ended. The Nightmare had knocked him unconscious, and he was sure at the time that that would be his final stand, the quiet end of his hero’s journey, but then he didn’t wake up dead. Or, rather, he actually woke up, and even better he’d woken up alone in a clearing that was distinctly Nightmare-less. Why hadn’t the darn thing finished him off? He wondered if it was because he lacked a sense of fear when out cold, but settled for being grateful that he was alive at all.

But, as the hours turned to days turned to even longer time periods that he couldn’t quite place the names of, Alistair started to worry that maybe he wasn’t alive at all but instead trapped in a terrifying endless limbo, not alive or dead but somewhere in between. This place, the physical Fade, he realised, wasn’t like anything he thought it was. It was twisty, and turny, and completely unique from anything he had seen before but also so much of the same that he had zero clue where he was at any given time. On top of that, the lack of a sun meant there was no day and night, with no indication what-so-ever of the passage of time, which meant Alistair could only assume it had been bloody ages. The whole landscape had a weird feeling about it, like he was experiencing a hazy dream with the clarity and awareness of being awake. He could feel the place messing with his head. At first, he forgot small details, like what he had for supper the night before the siege on Adamant Fortress, or what month it had been, but gradually he forgot larger details, such as who his father was or why he had a bizarre bird-thing on his armour.

And the _exhaustion_. His eyes were heavy and drooped almost constantly, and his muscles perpetually weak but he couldn’t sleep. He was already in the Fade, after all, so where would his mind go if he did? He was never starving, though. Every time he reached for his pack he always found one more piece of slightly-stale bread, and his hipflask always nearly out of water but not quite, just as he expected. After a while, it stopped occurring to him that he should’ve run out by then. No matter how tired he felt, however, Alistair kept trudging along the rocky terrain, looking for an exit, even during the brief spells when he forgot what he was looking for.

In the Fade, Alistair sometimes forgot the difference between a spirit and a demon. Other times, he wasn’t sure if there _was_ a difference. Alistair, instead, had generally taken to categorising them as ‘friendly’ or ‘wants to kill me’, which proved to be the more useful dichotomy. Surprising to him, at least, was the prevalence of the former type. An actual human was a rare find in the raw Fade, and spirits were nothing if not curious. Alistair gained quite the following of inquisitive spectators, trailing along near him and generally being interested in anything he did. At first, Alistair was incredibly weary of anything that tried to ask him questions, as anyone who had spent over a decade fighting these things would be, and he ignored any speech from them outright. Little by little, though, his defenses waned, and Alistair was soon engaging with the spirits, however tersely. He was careful to never give away too much because he knew that, while brutish demons like Rage would attack on sight, demons that spoke were _tricky_.

Though most of the ‘friendly’ spirits had moved on eventually, growing bored of a subject that just walked around, two _things_ in particular stuck by him, never growing disinterested. Perhaps, Alistair thought, that was because of the one thing that he never forgot about.

“Alistair, perhaps you should take a rest?” Tabris asked from behind him, her brow furrowed in concern. “You look so tired.”

At this point, Alistair had been walking for… Well, _bloody ages_ , he guessed, and he had no clue if he were closer or farther to where he needed to be. What’s more, he could have sworn he’d already seen that _exact_ rock just to his left. He halted his movements and let out a deep sigh.

“Yes!” agreed another Tabris. She placed her hand gently on Alistair’s shoulders. “You _need_ a rest.”

Alistair, who could not find the energy to shrug the second Tabris off, slowly leant onto the rock and slid down it, savouring the moment all the weight shifted from his legs, until he was sitting on the ground. “Only for a moment,” he mumbled.

“Take all the time you need,” said the first Tabris with a kind smile and worry in her eyes. She moved to the floor in a way that could only be described as a ‘graceful drift’ and positioned herself next to Alistair.

“Why the rush?” asked the second Tabris, sitting herself down on Alistair’s other side. “We’re not getting anywhere fast.”

“That’s just what you’d like, isn’t it? For me to just stop trying and stay here with you forever?” he asked.

“That’s not what she means,” the first Tabris said, shaking her head. “We enjoy your company, that’s all.”

The two Tabris’, though both imitations of his wife, were quite distinct in their own right. This Tabris was a decade younger, the age of his wife when he first thought, ‘Maker, I want to marry that woman.’ She wore a simple, cream coloured dress, a common outfit he’d remembered her wearing once while they were staying in Denerim after vanquishing the Blight. Her hair was brushed and flowing, a departure from its characteristic messiness, but short, just how she liked it. Her eyes were kind, and she always wore a sincere smile, her face the epitome of youthful hope. She floated above the ground when she moved, and Alistair swore she was surrounding by a warm glow. She was iridescent, every bit as breathtaking as his wife was, and perfect. _Too_ perfect. So perfect that it was unnerving.

Alistair looked back to the other Tabris as she shrugged, and a sneaky smile slowly crept onto her face. “Can you blame me?”

Alistair gazed at her for a brief second, the mischief on her face so achingly familiar. The second Tabris looked just like his wife had the last time they’d seen each other, donning slightly-worn but good quality leather armour with various stains of darkspawn blood. She was older, just as he remembered, with slight wrinkles creasing her face and eyes that twinkled but with an edge of weariness from years of battle. There was no halo around her, nothing otherworldly. Where the first Tabris floated above it all, quite literally, this one tread on the ground in a very real way.

But she didn’t always look like Tabris. Alistair had seen her as Duncan, alive and well, as a sister who wanted to know him, as a King Maric who was proud of him, and even as the child he’d wished he and Tabris could have. Each form was more heart-aching than the last, so Alistair had been thankful when the spirit had settled on looking like his wife.

When he’d asked, they hadn’t been particularly forthcoming about what _kind_ of spirits they were, instead complaining about humans’ needs for frivolous labels. Alistair decided a while ago that the second Tabris was a garden-variety desire demon. She wasn’t as outwardly malicious as all the others he met, but she was every bit as charismatic, and certainly every bit as dangerous. He had recognised her easily enough, but the other Tabris? She was something different, something rare. He had wondered at first if she was another desire demon, but that didn’t _fit_. She wasn’t really a demon, he reasoned. She wasn’t dark enough, there was no air of badness about her. She was a spirit, but what type? He had met spirits of wisdom, of justice, of faith, but none of them really seemed appropriate. She was closer to a spirit of compassion or hope, but she was something more unique that he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

“Have some water, Alistair, you look parched.” The spirit’s voiced sounded genuinely concerned, as it always was. Alistair, reluctant but not too much so, grabbed the flask from his pack, downing the last mouthful of warm water for the hundredth time. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, relishing the coolness of the liquid running down his throat, and sighed. What he wouldn’t do for a flagon of ale right now.

“I could make that happen, you know,” the Demon Tabris smiled, her voice enticing, leaning towards Alistair and blinking her eyes pointedly.

“No,” Alistair stated quickly in a hoarse voice. “No, you will not, I do not want anything from you.”

“Oh, _fine_. You know, you’re not much fun anymore,” Demon Tabris pouted. She shuffled up to the Alistair’s rock and casually leant her back against it, one leg propped up. She picked up the fake Warden’s Oath pendant from around her neck and started fiddling with it absentmindedly, an action he’d seen his wife do since she first got it. He swallowed, forcing down the yearning ache he felt deep in his chest.

“Don’t say that,” Spirit Tabris scolded. Alistair hadn’t noticed her move, but she was now lying on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows with her legs kicking up behind her. She looked to Alistair. “I think you’re very fun.”

“Why?” asked Demon Tabris. “All he does is walk around.”

Alistair was tempted to tell her to leave if she was so bored, but, in truth, having the two around had proven to be quite helpful, as they had taken it upon themselves to shoo off anything unfriendly. They were very protective of him, he found, and he wasn’t sure how much of that was just them pretending to be his wife.

“Yes, but he does it so _well_.” Her head settled onto her shoulder, and she gazed up at Alistair with her big, elven eyes and a dopey grin on her face. Alistair held back a small smile of his own.

“Does he really? We’ve passed this rock 17 times.”

“And he almost always notices.”

Alistair cleared his throat. “I’m right here, you know.”

Demon Tabris patted him on the shoulder. “And we’re very glad for it, dear.”

“You know what I want? Just a few moments of silence.”

“Okay,” Spirit Tabris whispered, beaming up at him.

Alistair rubbed his eyes, leaning back against the rock. He breathed, slowly and deeply, keeping his eyes closed to block out the Fade. The two Tabris’, thankfully, had stopped talking, something they rarely did. They bickered constantly, like two old ladies with nothing better to do. He didn’t always mind, because it kept his mind busy, but sometimes he just wanted some silence, and nowhere does silence like the Fade. With the absence of wind, and bugs chirping, and living things in general, silence really _meant_ silence. The place felt peaceful, if not slightly unsettling.

The peace was cut short, however, when Alistair heard a little cough from the Spirit Tabris’ direction. Knowing that spirits didn’t breathe, and therefore didn’t cough, he sighed, and opened his eyes. He was greeted to Spirit Tabris still lying on the floor, her cheery grin plastered on her face and her head delicately cupped in her hands. She stared up to him with wide, expecting eyes.

“Yes?” Alistair asked.

“Can you tell me about the rose again?”

Demon Tabris groaned. “Again? Can’t you tell that story by now?”

Spirit Tabris’ gaze didn’t leave Alistair. “But I _adore_ the way he tells it.”

Alistair chuckled softly, smiling down at his hands. He knew it wasn’t real, that Spirit Tabris didn’t feel that way, not really. They were both fake to a degree, imitating emotions and copying his memories and feelings because, simply, that’s what spirits did. But, despite his better judgement, he indulged Spirit Tabris anyway, because Maker was she endearing. Plus, in all honesty, Alistair loved talking about his wife.

“Well, we had just arrived at… Well, somewhere important, I assume. We were stopping by a Chantry to look at the Town Board or talk to a Sister or something, I don’t know. I was looking around at the garden, when I saw a bush with a single rose blooming on it. It mustn’t have been the right season, because it was the only rose out of however many bushes, but it was there anyway. It looked so…” Alistair paused, looking for the right word. “Special. So beautiful, just sitting there in the chaos. I knew the place would be destroyed by darkspawn in a matter of days, and I couldn’t just leave it there. They had destroyed enough life as it was. So, I picked it. A bit sappy, I know, but it reminded me so much of… Of her. I thought it would wilt, but it never did. Funny that, I’m still not quite sure why. Anyhow, I gave it to her as a gift. She had given me gifts after all, it was only polite.” He thought for a moment, a bashful smile on his face. “She liked it.”

Demon Tabris shook her head. “That’s so cheesy.”

“Yeah,” Spirit Tabris sighed. She was twirling a fresh rose in her fingers, watching it spin with dreamy eyes. Alistair had long since stopped being surprised when either of the Tabris’ created something out of thin air.

A question popped into his head as he watched her fiddle with the flower. “So, why do you like hearing that story so much? Couldn’t you just read my memories or something?”

Spirit Tabris giggled. “Because you get so happy and warm when you think about the rose, and about her.”

“I suppose I do,” he said, smiling to himself. “That’s very… Compassionate of you.”

Spirit Tabris paid him no mind, instead rolling onto her back and hold the rose up inches above her face. “I guess.”

“She’s not a ‘spirit of compassion’, you know,” Demon Tabris cut in. “That’s not what you would call her, anyway. I wouldn’t stay if she were, they’re absolutely insufferable.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “And what would I call her, then?” he asked, shifting slightly to face the Tabris still sitting next to him.

“I don’t know,” she said with a coy smile. “I’m not you, am I?”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Could you give me a hint?”

“Think about this way. Why would I, a ‘desire demon’, still be here?”

He frowned, wondering if this was a trick question. “Because I’m here? And you want to feed off desire?” Demon Tabris nodded, motioning with her hand for him to continue. “And… when I talk about my wife, I miss her more and want to see her…”

“Yes, you _desire_ her, and how else do you feel?”

“Well, I feel heartache.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I love her– _Oh_.”

Demon Tabris chuckled. “You know, you can be clever sometimes.”

“She’s a spirit of _love_ ,” he realised. Alistair was sure he’d read about them once. Spirits of love were both rare and _very_ powerful, he remembered, although he had been certain they didn’t really exist. He could just imagine how jealous some scholars and poets back in the real world would be if they knew.

“Why else would she be like this?” she asked, gesturing to the Tabris lying on the ground, lazily toying with the rose. “All sappy and romantic? It’s unbearable sometimes. And why else would she stick with you for so long? You’re as bad as she is!”

“Well”– he shrugged– “it’s hard not to be. My wife _is_ fairly amazing.”

“Why, thank you.” Demon Tabris winked.

Alistair chuckled, and the three fell into a comfortable silence. He thought about the Warden, the remarkable elven woman who could handle swords like nobody’s business and had been through so much but was still so caring of strangers. She had saved Thedas more times than it knew and had still _chosen him_ to marry. Life was never easy for the two of them, because of course it wasn’t, but they had stuck together through everything that had been thrown at them. He sighed, and thought about her face, her beautiful eyes, her dark skin, her enduringly messy hair, the sound of her voice…

Alistair listened to the air. Something had changed. There was something new, a faint but sure resonance hanging above him that meant something very important. It was the sound of approaching darkspawn, except it wasn’t quite. No, it was the sound of a Grey Warden, a very particular Grey Warden. _The_ Grey Warden, in fact. The one he had spent the last decade listening for. _His_ Grey Warden.

“My wife!” he breathed, shooting up straight where he sat. The spirit and demon followed suit, looking around with matching frowns on their faces.

“Where?” the Tabris’ asked in unison.

Alistair paused. “I don’t know, but she’s close.” The hum in his head was growing from a dim inkling to a whisper, just as the expression on his face changed from surprise to giddy excitement. He desperately looked around, examining the far distance for anyone, _anything_ , that hadn’t been there before. He turned back to the spirits with him, who were both already on their feet quicker than any person could be.

“I don’t see her,” Spirit Tabris said, her eyes wide.

“Good,” stated Demon Tabris. She stepped toward the spirit, and asked almost under her breath, “What are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?” Spirit Tabris asked back.

Alistair, with renewed strength, started to stand up again, letting out a breathy laugh in relief. “I’ve got to find her–”

“No!” Demon Tabris yelled, casting an arm out at Alistair. A distinct chill hit his body like a 5-ton snowball. In a second, all his energy had drained from his muscles, the very weight of his bones and armour dragging him downwards. With a quiet wheeze, he slumped back onto the rock again.

He grunted, trying to push himself up off the rock again, but he couldn’t find the strength. He knew this spell, he’d been hit with it a thousand times before in battle, but it had never felt this strong before. He was so tired to begin with that this beginner spell, which was usually only a slight nuisance at best, had completely debilitated him. He panted, listening to the sound of his wife in his head growing louder by the second. A small gasp cut through the song, and he forced his heavy eyelids open to the scene in front of him.

Whatever emotion that had been behind Spirit Tabris’ gasp was short-lived, as Alistair watched her gaze turn to the demon before her. Something in her had snapped, like delicate kindling set ablaze, and her entire demeanour warped from a blissful innocence to a dangerous fury. She was floating off the ground, at least a foot taller than Demon Tabris, and her natural glow had mutated to a dark crimson. Her hair and dress billowed in a strong gust of wind that Alistair didn’t think actually existed. Alistair was certain the hem of her gown was smouldering.

“Why did you do that?” Spirit Tabris spat through gritted teeth, her fists clenching, as she stalked towards her counterpart. Alistair swore he could see the Demon Tabris flinch.

She stepped back, her arms gesturing wildly. “Because he’s going to leave! Do you remember a _human_ ever falling out a hole in the sky before? This is a one-time opportunity, we can’t just let him go. Or is that what you want?”

“I want him to be happy.” The spirit was indignant, her voice unwavering, sparks flying from the very air around her. She reminded Alistair of the real Tabris more than ever.

“He could be happy. _With us_ ,” Demon Tabris hissed. The spirit stopped moving at this, and looked to Alistair with a furrowed brow. Her gaze was hard and focused as she studied him with incredible scrutiny, her face unreadable. Alistair swallowed. The demon continued, “You know we could make him happy, if he let us. _If he had no other options_.” She cautiously walked up to Spirit Tabris and sidled right up behind her shoulder. “He would be happy, and you know what? So would you!”

The Demon Tabris held a slight smile on her face, while the other stood still. She looked thoughtful but pained, like she was considering something very carefully. Her scarlet aura slowly diminished, returning to its normal muted glow albeit decidedly less warm than it had been. Never let it be said that desire demons are not persuasive. In the silence, Alistair could hear his wife’s song all but pounding in his head. The spirit’s eyes moved up and down him, until they fell on his. He held her gaze, and breathed a weak, “No.”

Spirit Tabris opened her mouth to speak, but before she could make a sound an arrow shot past her, inches from her head.

The two Tabris’ flinched, spinning to the arrow’s source. Running towards them were four mortal women, who had just happened to fall from a hole in the sky. The two closest were elven, one with a sword and shield and one with a sword in each hand, charging at full speed towards them. A way behind them were an archer and a mage, both human, the archer already having notched another arrow pointed directly at the spirits. The dual-wielder was yelling something indistinct but clearly menacing, and Spirit Tabris recognised her instantly. The Demon Tabris had thrown her arms up, midway through casting a spell, and the elves were mere steps away from contact, when Spirit Tabris let out a roar.

“Stop!”


	6. A Reunion

And everyone did. Not voluntarily, of course, but because the Spirit Tabris had cast a mass petrify spell on everyone in the area, save herself and the weakened Alistair. None of the four women had ever seen the spell cast so quickly on so many people, but nevertheless they were running one second and quite literally as still as a stone the next. They all stood for a brief moment, quietly dazed, wondering how they’re bodies had so quickly turned to rock, until the Warden broke the silence with a furious shout.

“Get away from him!” Tabris yelled to the two spirits wearing her form as outfits (although the petrified one would have had difficulty obliging, Lavellan noted). She pulled at her arms, which were now encased in rock in a very menacing position, but they did not budge. Lavellan, mere feet away, struggled against her own arms as well but to no avail.

The Spirit’s eyes were wide, but not in shock or concern. “Is it you? Is it really you?” she asked, her volume in considerable contrast to Tabris’ yell.

“I said, get away from him!” Tabris repeated, her voice not faltering or skipping a beat. Lavellan stayed quiet, as did the women far behind her out of her line of sight. They could see that this was not their fight.

Bafflingly, to Lavellan at least, a big, bright smile grew on the Spirit Tabris’ face. “Oh my goodness, it is! You’re just like how he remembers you,” she said, pulling her hands up to her chest. Her voice was identical to Tabris’, Lavellan thought, but much happier and more… Gleeful than Lavellan had ever heard.

The real Tabris’ face scrunched at the mention of her husband. Her words were deep and gravely. “I swear, if you’ve hurt him in any way _I’ll_ _kill you_.”

The last three words sent shivers down Lavellan’s spine. They sounded less like a threat and more like a promise 

The spirit giggled. _Giggled_. “Oh there’s no need to worry, I assure you,” she said. Her eyes were bright, either ignorant to or blatantly ignoring the threat on her life. “We’ve taken good care of him.” She smiled proudly.

Lavellan watched as Tabris’ eyes flickered ever so slightly towards Alistair, and the anger renewed on her face. Tabris took a deep breath, staring the spirit down. “That’s not what it looks like to me,” she said in a quiet yet sure voice, her jaw set hard.

“Oh, he’s _fine_ ,” the petrified demon spat out with annoyance, using a considerably more vindictive version of Tabris’ voice. The women’s heads spun to the demon, and she chuckled slightly. “Nothing that a _strong_ _man_ like him can’t handle. I mean, he’s made it this long, hasn’t he? 

The Spirit Tabris’ eyes lit up, and she turned to the real Tabris like she had just remembered something drastically important. “Oh, he’s so strong _,_ isn’t he? And not just in a muscle way, but he’s just so resilient! He’s walked for so long just trying to find his way to you again, it’s so…” She threw her hands up to her face, “… _Romantic_.” Her voice was so dreamy and wistful, Lavellan would have laughed in any other situation. Watching the fabled Hero of Ferelden gush about her husband like a lovesick puppy was quite the sight.

Tabris evidently wasn’t as amused by the sight, though. She narrowed her eyes, thinking, as her anger diluted with confusion. Through gritted teeth, she slowly asked, “Well, why don’t you let us go then? He’s found me now, surely–”

“No!” Demon Tabris cried. She turned to her twin. “Look at her! She’ll kill us to protect him.”

“But isn’t that so sweet?”

“I suppose it is,” the demon mumbled, in a way that would most likely be accompanied by a face-palm if her hands were free. She looked back to the real Tabris, an open expression on her face. “Okay, I have a proposal. What if you stayed here? Just for a while. You could leave at any point, I _promise_ ,” the demon said, in a way that anyone who had dealt with desire demons before would recognize.

“Oh, it really would be brilliant if you stayed!” added the spirit, looking at the real Tabris with those big, pleading eyes she’d used on Alistair hundreds of times.

“I really don’t think that’s for the best,” Tabris replied, her words sympathetic but resolute.

The demon pursed her lips. In a voice that anyone who didn’t know better would describe as caring, she said, “But you wouldn’t have to worry about the Grey Warden curse here.”

Lavellan’s breathing caught, and she gulped. She saw Tabris’ hard expression falter for only a split second, but it was enough for the demon to latch onto.

“Your darkspawn blood isn’t a problem in the Fade. You and Alistair could grow old together, safely. If you go back, you know your time together is limited. How long have you been searching for a cure? How many dead ends and false leads have you chased? Sure, he’s alive now, but what if you had been too late to save him? Do you want to waste the few years you have left searching for something that’s probably not out there?”

Tabris’ face was like stone, betraying no thoughts or feelings, but the demon continued. “You could live here in the Fade with us. You know it’s possible, after all Alistair has survived with nearly nothing. And we both know that you would never let us _possess_ you.” She said ‘possess’ like it was an ugly word, like how Tabris used to say the word ‘shem’.

“You’re smarter than that, I can see that. And do you think _she_ would let anyone possess you, anyway?” She jerked her head to her spirit companion, who was now dreamily gazing at Alistair and paying little attention to anything else. “Look at me, for Andraste’s sake, she petrified me so I wouldn’t hurt you! She’s strong and protective, and not just any spirit. You can see that as well as I can. If you stay, you would want for nothing. Free to spend eternity with your beloved husband.” Her head tilted down. “What do you say?”

Lavellan had had enough of this. “Warden, you can’t–”

Tabris shushed her, much to the demon’s delight. Lavellan searched Tabris’ face, looking for any inkling of what she might say next or what she was thinking. She wouldn’t agree, would she? She wouldn’t, surely, although Lavellan couldn’t blame her if she was tempted to. It was an enticing offer.

She followed Tabris’ eyes as they shifted from the petrified Demon Tabris, to the infatuated and daydreaming Spirit Tabris, and finally landed onto Alistair. They lingered there, softer and full of longing. Lavellan wished she knew what she was thinking.

She needn’t have, though, because a moment later Tabris turned back to her look-alikes and said with a sly smile, “That’s a very tempting offer, but no thank you.”

The demon wasn’t discouraged. “Really? Are you sure?” She paused, and in a deeper voice asked, _“_ What if it wasn’t just you and Alistair?”

Lavellan saw something on Tabris’ face click. That voice wasn’t just deeper, she realised, but a different voice entirely. Within the blink of an eye, the demon encased in stone didn’t look like Tabris anymore. She was still an elf, and around the same age, but her skin was darker, her hair neater, shorter, and embellished with plaits. Her features were very similar, but her face was rounder and her lips were fuller. Lavellan had a clue of who this might be.

Tabris let out an inarticulate yell, and her face screwed up in fury. However persuasive the demon’s last proposal was supposed to be, it hadn’t work. Quite the contrary, in fact, because Tabris had somehow found the strength to move her petrified arms. They slowly dislodged from above her body down, accompanied by a loud, intrusive grinding noise. Lavellan watched in amazement as the rocks enclosing Tabris shifted and grew, her arms and legs transforming into huge trunks and her head becoming entirely replaced with stone. When she had finished growing, she was positively colossal, standing at over double her normal height and retaining nearly none of elven features.

This must be what Morrigan meant when she mentioned golems.

The golem Tabris screamed again, the noise loud and entirely unhuman, but filled with the same instantly identifiable ferocity. The demon watched in wide-eyed horror as she realised the magnitude of the mistake she had just made seconds before, but the threat the golem Tabris posed didn’t seem to register with the spirit. Instead, her eyes were filled with a curious wonder, a slight smile tugging her lips. Lavellan couldn’t decide who she related to more, but she certainly didn’t envy either as Tabris pulled a boulder seemingly out of nowhere and hurled in their direction. Lavellan winced, anticipating a crushing or possibly squishing noise, but it never came. The boulder passed through them like they hadn’t been there, and in fact they weren’t there. The boulder crashed into the land just behind them as if it had wiped out all trace of their existence.

But Lavellan didn’t immediately wonder where they had gone, because at that same moment the rocks holding her and her party in place gave way. As quickly as they had stopped, the women started again, and Lavellan just caught herself before falling flat on the ground. She took a moment, but snapped back to attention just in time to watch a bright light engulf Tabris’ form and transform it back into her normal elven self. Tabris steadied herself quickly, the anger not leaving her face for a second as she gripped the swords still in her hands.

Morrigan and Leliana jogged up to the two elves, and the four women readied themselves for a surprise attack from whatever spirit could have paralysed them all and then vanish so easily, but it never came. Still, Tabris stood, hunched and angry and quietly panting.

A small cough from Alistair broke their concentration, and Lavellan watched Tabris’ face fall from unmatched rage to an unreadable mixture of happiness and desperation and relief all at once. She spun to face Alistair and a choked laugh escaped her throat. “Alistair?”

She dropped her weapons, and the sound of the swords clanging on the ground filled the silence, the other three women not daring to say or do anything. She took a shaky step towards him, then another, and then broke into a run to close the space between them. Tabris dropped to her knees where Alistair rested, thudding hard into the ground.

Alistair asked, his voice small and weary, “Kallian?”

“Alistair!” Tabris threw her arms around his neck like a vice and held herself as close to him as she could, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. Alistair looked up, squinting at the party. Eying off each member carefully, his face fell into a frail smile once he reached Morrigan.

“Kallian,” he breathed, bringing an arm slowly up onto her back and pulling her closer to him. He rested her head on hers, tears smudging the layer of dirt on his face and his breath shaking. “It’s been so long.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine, love. I’m much better now that you’re here.”

Tabris’ chest was trembling, threatening to fall to pieces, when she lifted her head to look up at his face and sniffled. “They told me you were dead,” she said, the weakness in her voice matching his.

Alistair exhaled unevenly, the closest he could muster to a chuckle. “Well, I hate to disappoint, but…”

Tabris let out something between a laugh and a sob, giving a small shake of her head without breaking eye contact with her husband. “You nughead.” She shifted her arms up, hugging him closer and pressing her head into his.

She carefully let go of him, bringing her hands up to his face. She felt his cheeks, his jawline, his lips, with a hint of desperation. Sight wasn’t good enough, she needed to _feel_ that he was there. She had to _know_. His weary hands mimicked hers as he brought them to gently cup her face and her fingers found their way into his hair.

With a breath, the two decided enough was enough and pulled each other into a kiss. It was deep, and desperate, and perhaps a little bit out of practice. It was a kiss between two people who thought they would never see each other again. It was a kiss long overdue.

Lavellan wanted to look away. After all, this was a very private moment between a married couple. But it was also a rare and beautiful sight, and one that most people were both lucky and unlucky enough to avoid. She shot a quick glance at her other two followers. Leliana grinned shamelessly, and surprisingly, Morrigan was barely suppressing her own smirk. Lavellan didn’t say anything, instead letting out a silent sigh.

Thankfully, the kiss was also quick, and by the time Lavellan had looked back the couple had returned to hugging each other as tightly as they could manage. Frankly, Lavellan was worried Tabris might accidentally hurt Alistair, and was wondering if either of them would listen if she interrupted them when Morrigan spoke up, her face back to its normal, unimpressed expression.

“Not that this isn’t incredibly… _Touching_ ,” she said, “but shall we leave now that we’ve found what we were looking for? Lest the spirits return and we are forced into another confrontation?”

Leliana looked reluctant when she agreed. “Yes, it would be best if we left sooner rather than later.”

Tabris pushed herself away from Alistair’s body and locked eyes with him, smiling and blinking away tears. “Ya’ hear that, Alistair? It’s time to go home.” She sniffed, and added with a croaky laugh, “We’re grossing out our audience.”

Lavellan turned away at that point, her cheeks a bit red, and just caught Morrigan’s eye roll. Leliana stepped forward and gave Tabris a hand in lifting up Alistair. Once they established that he could (just barely) stand, they each took up position under either of his shoulders. The five then set off, back in the direction of the Fade rift they came through. They trudged, slowly but surely, in silence, except for the occasional groan or grunt from Alistair. Lavellan was okay with walking in silence, while pretending that she didn’t see the smiles and looks the Wardens’ kept throwing each other, until a thought popped into her mind.

“I have a question, Alistair,” Lavellan said.

Alistair coughed, and replied, “Yes?”

“How can you tell that we aren’t demons too?”

“No desire demon would try to fool me by looking like Morrigan.”

“It’s nice to see you as well, Alistair.”

…..

Not too far off in the distance, two identical figures stood behind a tall rock formation and watched a band of seasoned adventurers trek further into the distance. The two figures appeared to be elvish women, one slightly older and wearing scuffed leather armour, and the other slightly younger and wearing a flowing white dress. The older one watched the party with an unblinking eagle eye while absent-mindedly toying with a necklace around her neck. She pursed her lips, frowning.

“They would’ve been happy with us, you know.”

The younger one lent against the rock, delicately stroking the petals of a single rose she was holding in her hands. She brought the rose up to her nose and smelt it, inhaling deeply. She brought the rose back down and sighed, a content look on her face.

“No, they wouldn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading my take on the Fade and what might have happened to Alistair while there. I really wanted to differentiate this fic from other 'saving Alistair from the Fade' fics, so if you liked what I did with the spirits or the reunion or anything else, let me know! Constructive criticism is always appreciated!


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